


Mocha

by mysticanni



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Colours, M/M, Painting, brief mention of nudity, dislike of coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24456745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: Freddie is hired to paint a mural on the wall of a local coffee shop.  He is attracted to the lovely blond barista.
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Comments: 14
Kudos: 45
Collections: Freddie Mercury Weekend 2020!





	Mocha

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Is This Just Fantasy - Coffee Shop AU - "Wanna be intoxicated with that special brew..."
> 
> I know nothing about art and even less about painting murals - if you are an artist and you choose to read this then I hope my mistakes are not too distressing for you.

Mocha

Freddie found the hardest part of starting each new job the conversation he needed to have with the client. He would have communicated by email and perhaps the occasional phone call before arriving at the site but he had discovered he needed to carefully construct a persona to hide behind so he could deal with the real live person he would be working for.

He was particularly dreading the job he was about to start on this Monday morning. He estimated that the job would take until Friday to complete and he was painting a mural on the wall of a coffee shop near his home, which he had been to several times.

Freddie did not like coffee but he had visited the coffee shop several times because he was partial to the lovely blond barista who worked there. He could barely stammer an order to this vision of loveliness so he had no idea how he would cope being effectively in the same room as him for the best part of a week. He was also dismayed at the thought that he would be in close proximity to the object of his affections but wearing overalls for work and therefore not displaying his own charms to maximum advantage. Or any advantage. Not that the blond would look twice at him. But still. 

Of course the lovely blond would not be there all the time. He had been there on disappointingly few occasions when Freddie had just happened to pop in for a coffee he didn’t really want. 

The coffee shop was owned by Mr Freestone who had assured Freddie in a jolly email that everyone called him Phoebe. Most clients were more formal and most were women.

His work attracted a certain kind of woman, he had found. They tended to be wealthy women in well-preserved middle-age, often recently divorced. They were usually looking for a ‘talking-point’. So Freddie would give them a dramatic mural, usually in their dining-room where they could show it off to their friends at dinner parties but didn’t have to actually look at it very often themselves.

Something tasteful and elegant was normally the brief for those jobs. Freddie preferred the cheerful pregnant women who wanted something joyful on one of the nursery walls. He often gave the pregnant women a discount they almost certainly didn’t need and he couldn’t really afford. 

He was not at all sure what to expect from Mr Freestone, who wanted “something bright and breezy” on the wall of the coffee shop. And he was apprehensive about the near certainty that he would make a fool of himself in front of the beautiful blond.

Freddie’s palms were sweaty as he approached the cafe. He adjusted his grip on the folder he was carrying, containing the mini versions of potential murals for the wall. A lot of people would see this mural. He knew few of them would think of having such a thing in their own home however he might pick up work for other businesses.

The bell above the door jangled as Freddie entered. There were some customers corralled in the part of the coffee shop well away from the wall Freddie would be painting. His equipment was all there, as his friend John had driven him over on Saturday evening after the coffee shop closed for the night to help him set everything up. The cafe did not open on Sundays. A pleasant woman had let them in. Freddie hadn’t caught her name, although she had told him it, and that would potentially be embarrassing if she was here now.

He needn’t have worried though (or perhaps he should have worried more) because the pleasant woman was nowhere to be seen and it was the gorgeous blond who emerged from behind the counter to greet him. “Mr Mercury? Hi, I’m Roger.”

This was not Phoebe, then. “Freddie, please,” he managed to say.

“Phoebe, Mr Freestone, the manager, got called away at short notice,” Roger told him, “so he’s told me to look after you?”

Oh. Part of Freddie was delighted at the idea of being looked after by Roger. Part of Freddie thought being close to Roger might cause him to spontaneously combust due to the burning intensity of his lust. “Uh – he needs to choose a design...” he said weakly, brandishing his folder at Roger.

Roger nodded eagerly. “He said I could do that!” he exclaimed, looking excited. “I can show you his email?” he added which made Freddie think he must have looked doubtful and he felt a pang of sorrow at having taken some of the enjoyment away from this lovely man. “I think he sent you a message too,” Roger noted.

Freddie had indeed received an apologetic message from Phoebe which authorised Roger to act on his behalf. Freddie followed Roger to an empty table where Roger could keep an eye on the counter in case a customer approached it.

Freddie cleared his throat. “So, here are the designs I prepared...” He spread the four options out on the table. Freddie would never have fully admitted it to himself but he tended to create designs that should appeal to different astrological groups.

Roger immediately picked up the sunflowers and butterflies option. Freddie had thought that might appeal to fire signs and perhaps also to earth signs with the flower and earth energy the image had and the bright colours underpinned with earthier tones. 

Roger then glanced at the ocean scene, sunlight on water, gentle waves. Freddie thought Roger was a sunny person and was glad he had chosen those images. 

It was the design with planets on it that prompted Roger to speak, however. This had a dark blue background with a silvery moon and shimmering planets in cool tones. “Oh, my friend Brian would love this one!” he exclaimed. “He’s an astrophysicist!”

Freddie had included that one to appeal to air signs but supposed it would appeal to someone with a more scientific interest in the stars. He should try to break this habit of preparing examples to appeal to different signs of the zodiac. He would be ashamed to tell anyone he did it and he worried it was unprofessional. The trouble was that in the past when he had checked the social media profiles of his clients to gain an insight into their tastes, he had often found out their birthdays and it was remarkable how often their zodiac signs corresponded to the design they chose. It was purely coincidental, obviously.

“This one is very cheerful, too,” Roger said, picking up a design with palm trees and sunshine on it. He was definitely drawn to sunshine, Freddie thought, although he supposed most people were.

“I’m drawn to this one,” Roger murmured, tapping the sunflower design with his finger, “and I think Phoebe will like it too.”

“Is that the one you would like?” Freddie asked.

He was rewarded with a dazzling smile. “Yes, please!”

*

The wall Freddie was decorating had recently been re-plastered (Phoebe had explained it had previously had wooden panels on it which had not been in good condition and had made the room dark so he had them removed). Phoebe had consulted Freddie on how to prepare the wall for the mural, which Freddie was thankful for as this meant the wall had received a coat of primer and it saved him a task.

He spent the morning methodically marking out a grid on the wall so he could easily transfer his paper image of the design on to the wall in the correct proportions. He was always impatient to get started on the actual painting and found this part of the process tedious but it was undeniably necessary.

Absorbed in his task he jumped a little when someone cleared their throat nearby. He turned and found Roger’s lovely blue eyes studying him. “Uranian blue,” he murmured before he could stop himself.

“Sorry?” Roger blinked in confusion.

Freddie blushed. “Your eyes,” he explained. “The colour is Uranian blue.”

“Other worldly,” Roger suggested uncertainly, “Um – would you like a coffee? You’re a mocha, aren’t you?”

Other worldly was right, Freddie thought dreamily. He also thought he could not pretend to like coffee for a week, not even for ethereal Roger and his beautiful eyes.

Roger misinterpreted the reason for his hesitation. “It’s on the house,” he said, “Phoebe gave very strict orders about feeding you and making you drinks.”

“Like a cat, dear?” Freddie laughed and then felt bad as Roger flushed. “Sorry...”

“No, I’m sorry,” Roger gabbled, “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I’ll make your mocha,” he gasped, dashing off.

Fuck. Now he was going to have to drink the damn thing.

*

He had chosen mocha in the hope that the chocolate would mask the taste of the coffee but had found that instead it seemed to make it worse while ruining the chocolate. He thought it was like drinking particularly horrible molten coffee creams from a box of chocolates.

He had to admit it was a more photographic drink than, say, a latte. Not that he had photographed it. He found food and drink posts bemusing, however photogenic the item in question. Each to their own, though. The mocha had looked pleasing. He just didn’t like the taste of coffee; which was a distinct disadvantage when you wanted to drool over a hot blond who made coffee for a living.

He sat cross-legged on the floor studying the wall as he sipped the disgusting drink Roger had no doubt prepared beautifully for him (everything Roger did would be beautiful, he thought). Seeing the wall from this angle was interesting. He looked up as he heard footsteps rustling over the protective floor covering. Roger crouched next to him. “You can sit at a table, y’know,” Roger assured him.

“I’m fine here, darling,” he replied.

“I didn’t mean to offend you before,” Roger told him, looking anxious.

Freddie assured him he hadn’t been offended. He wondered desperately if all their conversations were destined to be this awkward? If so, did the awkwardness mean the conversations weren’t destined? Was this a doomed enterprise? What enterprise, he chastised himself. Roger could have anyone he wanted. He wouldn’t want Freddie. He ought to be focussing on the mural not lusting after the pretty barista.

He was relieved and delighted when Roger shyly asked about the grid system. This, he could talk about for hours. He enthusiastically explained that the Egyptians had invented this method for creating murals. He was telling Roger that Leonardo Da Vinci had used the grid system when Roger had to go and serve a customer. Freddie was then slightly worried he had been boring him. Still, the mocha was now cold so he had a good excuse not to drink the rest of it.

*

Roger disappeared at lunchtime, his shift over, and Freddie obtained tea and sandwiches from Tim, who had appeared in Roger’s place. Freddie had been served by Tim before a few times when he had casually just happened to frequent the cafe in the hope of being served by Roger. Tim, however, did not seem to remember that he normally ordered a mocha, for which Freddie was grateful. 

If he was painting Tim his hair would be a mix of brown and chestnut, perhaps with a touch of burnt umber. Freddie was fond of burnt umber. He considered Roger’s hair, which would be a challenge: desert sand, maybe, with cream and lemon chiffon in the mix and perhaps some sandy brown. Would a slight hint of xanthic yellow work, he wondered, or smoky topaz? Xanthic sounded so much more romantic than acid. He would need Roger in front of him, of course. He briefly imagined Roger posing naked for him and hastily returned his focus to the reality of the cafe and his sandwich. He reminded himself firmly that he was being paid to create a mural not day-dream about how delicious one of the cafe’s staff might look draped across a sofa looking like a wide-eyed innocent angel.

*

The elusive Phoebe appeared at the end of the day. Freddie had been served by him, too, he realised and he saw Phoebe’s eyes widen in recognition. “I hadn’t realised you were a customer, Mr Mercury,” he beamed, “Roger’s...” He halted, looking guilty before saying, “You usually order a mocha, don’t you?”

“Please call me Freddie, Mr Freestone,” Freddie said, “Um – this is the design Roger chose...”

“You must call me Phoebe.” He looked at the wall. “I think it will look amazing! Have Roger and Tim been looking after you? I’m sorry I wasn’t here to welcome you, I had to take my cat to the vet.”

“I hope your cat is okay,” Freddie gasped. He loved cats. A scruffy tabby had recently adopted him. Cats were infinitely preferable to people. He thought guiltily that he should really take ‘his’ cat to the vet too to check she didn’t have a chip, make sure that there was no one looking for her.

“She’s going to be fine,” Phoebe confirmed, “they gave her some pills. She was a stray, she’s recently come to stay with me and she looked so forlorn this morning, poor little thing. She has ‘flu’.”

Freddie told Phoebe about his own stray cat and they compared photos. Phoebe offered to make him a drink, “One for the road, if you don’t have to rush off? Would you like a mocha?”

Caught off guard, Freddie shuddered at the idea.

“I didn’t think you seemed like a mocha person,” Phoebe remarked.

“I’m not really a coffee person,” Freddie confessed, flushing, “but I first came here with a friend, John, who is a coffee fiend and he said your coffee was excellent, so... And this place is so welcoming...”

“I’m glad you think so,” Phoebe said with a smile, “and our tea is also excellent, if you would like to try some?” He murmured to himself, “Roger will be so glad we were right.”

“Right about what, dear,” Freddie asked.

“Oh,” Phoebe flushed, “you’ll think us terrible... It’s just... Mocha people are usually attention-seeking and Rog found you so attractive and... Oh... I shouldn’t have said that... And there isn’t anything wrong with being attention-seeking, of course... I mean, Roger himself... But it didn’t seem to fit you...” He sighed.

“Roger finds me attractive?” Freddie said faintly.

“Yes, he does,” Phoebe confirmed with a delighted smile. “Do you... er...?”

“Oh, I think he’s gorgeous!” Freddie blurted out then blushed furiously. 

“Excellent,” Phoebe beamed, “he does the morning shifts and he might have this Saturday off if your date on Friday night means he needs a lie-in...”

“Our date... Oh... No, no... I can’t...”

“Of course you can,” Phoebe told him, “you like him, he likes you, you’re both single – you are single, aren’t you?”

Freddie confirmed he was single.

“Then what’s stopping you?” Phoebe handed him a mug of tea and checked his phone. “Ah, no, he is working on Saturday. Such a pity, but we are closed on Sundays, so perhaps Saturday night would suit for your date?”

*

Freddie called John as he walked home to share the unexpected turn his first day on his new job had taken. “It all seems terribly sudden and a little overwhelming,” he concluded. 

“Would you like me to come with you tomorrow morning for moral support?” John offered.

“I’d love that, dear, if you don’t mind, thank you.”

*

They were at the coffee shop at opening time. There was only one other customer, a slender man with dark curly hair. There was no sign of Phoebe.

Roger emerged from behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. “Good morning,” he said, glancing at John and adding, “double espresso, isn’t it?”

“It is,” John confirmed, “if mocha people are attention-seeking then what are double espresso people?”

“This is my friend, John,” Freddie told Roger, who looked slightly alarmed.

“Um...” Roger retreated back behind the counter. “Double espresso people are coffee connoisseurs,” he told John, “like my friend Brian, over there.” He indicated the curly haired man.

“Planets,” Freddie recalled, “the astrophysicist.”

“Yes,” Roger grinned, “and he is here because I felt a bit nervous about seeing you after Phoebe called last night and... If you’re not interested then... I mean, it’s fine...”

“He’s interested,” John said firmly, accepting the cup of coffee Roger was offering him, “and I’m just going to go over there and laugh at you two with Brian, while you sort out your date.”

“Sorry,” Freddie said, glaring at John’s retreating back.

Roger came out from behind the counter again. “So... Um... May I kiss you?” he asked, blushing.

Champagne pink for his lips, Freddie thought, as he pressed his own lips firmly against Roger’s. With a touch of fairy tale pink mixed in, perhaps, or would cherry blossom pink be better?

“I thought,” Roger said as they separated, “that I could meet you for lunch after I finish work on Saturday and maybe, if you liked, you could show me your favourite art gallery?”

“Darling, I’d love to,” Freddie murmured, kissing Roger again. He thought this was the best job he had ever had.


End file.
